


Eyeliner and Cigarettes

by mrs_d



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: (Two of them!), (because it's Lucifer and it's Maze), Background one-night stands, Canon Bicons, Canon Bisexual Character, Devil Face (Lucifer TV), Episode: s03e11 City of Angels?, F/M, Makeup, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Canon, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26561656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: “There’s just so much here,” Mazikeen said. “So much color, so many possibilities.... It’s overwhelming.”“I know,” Lucifer murmured. “Nothing like the monochrome hellfires of home, hmm?”Or, Lucifer and Maze try to adjust to their new normal.
Relationships: Mazikeen/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 60





	Eyeliner and Cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from [Lady Gaga.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rSZ50vs9OXs) Lucifer having the smallest modicum of emotional intelligence comes from me.

Lucifer’s three favorite workers had just left, thoroughly satisfied and definitely wearing each other’s jeans. They’d be back tomorrow, to _finish the wiring,_ but for now, Lucifer was alone, and the penthouse echoed with silence.

Leaving his shirt off, he pulled on his trousers and descended the steps from his bedroom. It was the only fully renovated room thus far, because— well, priorities. He crossed the space that felt too empty, heading to the new bar. He took a bottle and a tumbler out from under it, where they were protected from the worst of the drywall dust. Still, he wiped the rim before he poured the liquor and took the glass to the balcony. 

Below him, the city at sunset was a sprawling Leviathan of light and noise and smog. He’d never seen anything so hideously beautiful. It overflowed with life, with passion, with choice. The City of Angels— ha. No angel could appreciate or understand it. Most barely appreciated or understood humans in general, seeing them as tiny, insignificant creatures. Dad’s perfect pets, best observed at a distance. But Lucifer had known for centuries that if you cram enough of them into one place, amazing things could happen. Like what had just happened in his bed, for instance. 

He chuckled and took a sip of his whiskey. It wasn’t one of the twelve varieties that they used to offer downstairs, but it was wonderful nonetheless. He closed his eyes, savoring the smooth burn, and when he opened them again, he glanced upwards.

“Can’t get this in Hell,” he told his Father. “Sure am glad I’m not there anymore.”

He waited, then smirked when—again—there was no response. For all Amenadiel’s bluster, Lucifer hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Dad in the two weeks since he’d decided he wasn’t going back. And he’d been taunting Him, too, what with the wing-ectomy and all, but still, not a peep from On High. 

“Oh, well,” he sighed in fake resignation. “More debauchery it is, then. Poor me.”

Lucifer raised his tumbler to the sky in a toast to his retirement and drained it. He set the empty glass down on a small table, the only piece of furniture out here for now, and pulled his cigarette case and lighter from his pocket. He turned out of the wind to light up, then wandered the expansive balcony as he smoked. 

That contractor didn’t know what he was talking about, he thought. There was plenty of room out here for a hot tub, not to mention the perky bare breasts that were sure to come with it. Perhaps tomorrow, if the boys weren’t too busy, he’d ask if they knew someone who could take a look, get a second opinion. It was unacceptable that such a hedonistic invention would _not_ be found in the Devil’s home, after all. 

The elevator chimed again as he blew out his last mouthful of smoke. He ground the cigarette butt into the ashtray, watching Mazikeen’s familiar form emerge from the open doors, her arms laden with shopping bags. Credit cards were another clever human invention, and now that Lucifer officially existed on this plane, he was taking full advantage of their capacity to provide instant gratification. 

He re-entered the penthouse as Maze deposited her many bags on the brand new couch, which was still wrapped in its protective plastic sheet. Lucifer leaned over to inspect the haul, curious about what she’d spent his money on.

“Have a good time?” he asked.

“Not really,” Maze replied sourly, crossing her arms over her chest. “I followed your advice and tried something new.”

“Oh?” Lucifer glanced up, surprised, and did a double take. “Your eyelids are purple,” he said. “And your lips—”

“Berry blast,” Maze said, rolling her eyes. “Whatever that means.”

Lucifer looked closer. He’d never seen Mazikeen in human makeup before, and the effect was striking. Her waterline was pitch black, as was the line that traced her upper lashes and extended just past the outer corner of her eye. Below her lower lashes was a smudge of soft, shimmering purple. When she blinked, he noticed that her eyelids were the same color, but above the crease, it deepened into a more royal shade. Above that, yet another color: a pale lilac that drew attention to her full, dark brows.

“Who did this to you?” Lucifer wondered aloud. “And what did you do to them?”

“Nothing,” Mazikeen said. Obviously sensing his disbelief, she sighed. “You told me I couldn’t torture anybody here unless they really, really deserved it, and the girl doing makeovers at Sephora was... sweet.”

Lucifer laughed at the scowl on Maze’s face, accentuated as it was by the color on her lips and cheeks. Some of her blush, he suspected, was natural, which delighted him all the more.

“She did quite a good job,” he had to admit. “I never thought I’d see you in purple, but it’s well done. You look good, Mazikeen,” he added, stepping closer.

The corners of Maze’s tinted mouth twitched upwards. “You think?”

“Oh, yes.” Lucifer dropped his voice to a seductive purr and closed the distance between them. “In fact, I think I could get used to it.” 

Maze indulged him, returning his kiss with her sticky, gloss-smeared lips, but she pulled away only a brief moment later.

“I don’t know if it’s for me,” she said. She huffed a small laugh as Lucifer wiped his mouth. “The purple’s not a bad color on you, though.”

“Well, of course, darling, I’m royalty,” Lucifer joked. “Come on,” he added, taking her hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“The lights are working in here now,” Maze observed with some surprise, as he led her through the bedroom into the master bathroom. “You didn’t distract the boys too much today?”

“Oh, I did,” Lucifer assured her. He opened the mostly-empty cabinet and pulled out a fresh washcloth. As he spoke, he ran the tap until it was warm. “But dear William sat out the first round to finish this up. He was quite insistent. Wonderful Protestant work ethic, that one. Quite fun to corrupt.”

“Sounds like,” Maze agreed, leaning her hip on the edge of the vanity.

Lucifer wrung out the wet cloth and offered it to Maze, then changed his mind at the last moment, deciding he’d rather do it himself. He was still technically responsible for taking care of the demons, after all, even if he only ever interacted with one of them nowadays. 

“Close your eyes,” he said, and he smiled when she did so right away. 

He started at her hairline, because now that he was close enough, he could see that she was smothered in foundation as well. With gentle, thorough swipes of the cloth, he worked his way down towards her right eyebrow. The ‘sweet’ girl at Sephora had filled in Maze’s scar—the one she’d acquired eons ago when she foiled an assassination plot—and she just didn’t look right without it. Once it was visible again, he traced its pale line with his thumb, and Maze’s purple eyelids flickered open.

“She was going to do something in black, but I told her I wanted to branch out,” she said, meeting his gaze. There was a strange look about her, something Lucifer had never seen before, but she closed her eyes again before he could figure out what it was.

“And do you?” he asked, reaching past her to rinse the cloth. 

He’d finished her right eyelid before she spoke again. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re allowed to,” Lucifer reminded her, starting on her left. The black cloth was coated in glimmering color now, and he rinsed it again, wringing purple water from it three times before it felt clean enough to use. 

“There’s just so much here,” Mazikeen said, when the cloth touched her skin. He wondered if it was easier for her to speak with her eyes closed, and he didn’t interrupt. “So much color, so many possibilities.... It’s overwhelming.”

“I know,” Lucifer murmured. Though he’d had centuries of stolen moments on Earth, being here full-time sometimes bordered on too much, even for him. “Nothing like the monochrome hellfires of home, hmm?”

Maze, her eyes still closed, smiled, but it faded fast. “I miss it,” she confessed in a whisper, and then she froze, as if waiting for the fallout.

But Lucifer kept his touches light, wiping the layers of color from her smooth, golden brown skin. “I’m sure my dear brother would be happy to give you a lift back to Hell,” he said, trying to sound casual. “If you want to go, I will arrange it.” 

Mazikeen didn’t answer. Lucifer rinsed the cloth again. The fabric steamed from the hot water, but Maze, well accustomed to heat, didn’t flinch when it touched her berry-blasted lips. He nudged the corner of her mouth with his thumb, and she opened at once to grant him access. 

The sight sent a ripple of unexpected arousal through him. Last night, she’d sucked him off— slowly, expertly. Tortuously. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as his cock stirred behind his zipper. And to think, the boys had teased him about needing until tomorrow morning before they could come back. They thought him human, of course. They had no idea. 

Maze’s breathing had quickened; Lucifer had a feeling he wasn’t the only one remembering last night. She kept her eyes closed, her mouth open wide, submissive and awaiting her king’s instructions. 

But he wasn’t her king anymore. Not here. Here, they were both outsiders, newcomers to this world ruled by choice and not subservience. Could they survive this plane, he wondered, not for the first time. Or would it change them irrevocably? Would it change her? He knew _he’d_ made the right choice in leaving Hell, but had it been a mistake to bring her along with him?

The lip color finally gone, Lucifer set the cloth back in the sink and laid a hand along her jaw, letting his thumb caress her clean, damp cheek. Maze opened her eyes, and Lucifer realized that of course it wasn’t a mistake to bring her here. He needed her, and, even if he didn’t, he couldn’t bear to leave her behind.

But if she really wanted to go home....

“Just say the word,” he told her softly. “The choice is yours.”

Mazikeen chose. She chose to kiss him, chose to pull him close to her, chose to back away from the sink until she was flat against the wall with his arms bracketing her shoulders, which seemed so narrow without their usual armor. 

Her sweater was yellow and buttery soft against his bare chest, her lips rough and searing hot. As her tongue slid, almost shyly, into his mouth, she shoved her denim-clad thigh between his legs, giving them both something to grind against. He slipped his fingers under the hem of her shirt and pushed upward until the sweater was a puddle on the bathroom floor. Maze’s bra was lacy and pink, the front clasp embellished with a tiny rhinestone. Like the purple eyeshadow, it was pretty. But he had no time to admire it— as soon as her breasts were free, she bit his bottom lip, hard enough that he tasted copper on his tongue. 

His demon was a study in contrasts today, it seemed.

He dropped one hand to the fly of her jeans and popped the button easily, but pulled back in surprise when his fingers brushed the smooth, bare skin below. She watched him reach down deeper, and when he found the strip of soft curls low on her pelvis, she looked up. That unfamiliar look was in her eyes again, and Lucifer recognized it for what it was: uncertainty. Hesitation. 

“More branching out?” he prompted in a low voice. 

Maze swallowed hard and nodded. 

“I like it,” he reassured her, because he’d never known her to hesitate about anything, and it was almost unsettling. “But I hope you didn’t do this on my account?”

Maze looked away and shrugged one bare shoulder. A non-answer if he’d ever seen one. He could press her on it—her clitoris was _right there,_ and he knew plenty of ways of manipulating that to get the truth out of someone—but he decided to let it go for now and kissed her again. 

She sighed into it, relieved, and reached for his belt buckle. Her hands were cool and fumbling against his bare stomach. It took some finagling—Lucifer’s fingers jostled around between Maze’s legs a little more than was strictly necessary—but finally his trousers hit the floor, and her jeans a second later. He spared a glance at the neat row of hair between her legs, but she grabbed his cock and dragged it through her wetness, which startled him into closing his eyes. 

She played with him a long time, nudging her clit with the tip of his erection, pleasuring herself. He smiled and kissed her neck in return, then raised his thumbs to her pert nipples. He drew rough circles, matching her motion below, and she panted, loud and harsh, in his ear. Her teeth grazed his earlobe; he bit her supple skin, just hard enough to sting, the way he knew she liked it. 

She moaned and twitched under his mouth. She was close, but he could tell the touch wasn’t enough, the tease was driving her mad. He was almost mad with it himself— the sight, the feel, of her using him this way was always such a turn-on; he loved being the conduit through which others fulfilled their desires, after all. Still, he ached for more, to feel her tight walls flutter around him as she came on his cock. 

He rocked his hips, encouraging, sure that she would climax like this, but instead, she lifted her leg and pushed his ass forward with her foot. He was abruptly inside her, sliding all the way to the hilt in one smooth motion. He gasped at the sudden rush of warm sensation and raised his head. Maze’s eyes were dark, traces of black liner visible still above and below her lashes. 

He stayed still, and so did she— both of them just breathing, sharing each other’s air. Lucifer thought, as he often did in moments like this, of the first time they did this. It was eons ago, and they were both in their Hellish forms, his charred skin fiery red against Maze’s grey-white, decaying flesh. He was so young then, so naive and miserable. It was the first time he’d experienced carnal pleasure, the first time he’d learned that such depth of physical feeling was possible, that the body could be an end in itself, rather than simply a means of achieving loftier ambitions— namely his Father’s glory, which he could never hope to regain. 

Maze exhaled a shaky breath as Lucifer began to move, thrusting into her deep and slow, still lost in memory. She’d given him this. Whether she’d intended it as a distraction, a balm to soothe her newly appointed ruler, or if she’d meant to show him a new path forward, he was never sure, but he would always think of it as a gift. And a part of him, the part that knew he was a monster, would always belong to her. 

His thighs shook with the effort of holding back, of holding off. His pupils burned, the Hellfire rising at his command, and she shifted, too. He kissed her disfigured mouth, savoring the sweet rot of dead flesh, the smoky trace of ash that he knew would never fully fade, no matter how long they stayed on Earth. 

He dropped his hand between them, his thumb finding her clit with ease. Her grip on his shoulders would no doubt bruise, but the pain only fueled his desire to make her come, to come apart with her. She said his name around his tongue, and he stroked her harder, fucked her faster. Her long hair fell into his face with the movement, and he pulled back to swipe the clinging strands aside. Then, struck by inspiration, he tangled his fingers in it and tugged, giving a little pain back. 

It was what she needed— she cried out and clenched around him, her head rolling back against the unpainted wall. He let go a moment later, riding her body’s motion to come with a shudder deep inside her. 

The pleasure—his and hers—could have lasted a minute or an hour; Lucifer’s hold on time was slippery at best in this, their new home. But when it finally faded, he pulled out, and Mazikeen lowered her leg to the floor. He stayed close, however, and brought his hand back up to her jaw. He brushed his fingers over her hideous, beautiful face that no makeup could hide or improve. 

Was this love, he wondered. Or a variation on it— the closest they would ever get, perhaps. Mazikeen was soulless, after all, and Lucifer was Fallen. He wondered if he ought to tell her anyway. He wondered if he even knew how to say the words.

“Branch out,” he heard himself say instead. “If you want to. Try new things, if you want to. But don’t ever think you need to change for me, Mazikeen.”

“Everything is changing,” Maze replied, avoiding his gaze. “It’s so different from home.”

“Yes,” Lucifer agreed. He opened his mouth to remind her that she wasn’t bound to Earth the way he was, that all she had to do was ask, but she spoke again.

“I don’t like yellow,” she said— a nonsensical statement, he thought at first, but then he noticed her eyes were on the sweater at her feet. “I hate pink. Blue jeans are uncomfortable.”

Lucifer nodded slowly. “What would you rather? Name it, and it’s yours.”

“Leather,” she answered at once, though it was obvious that it took a lot to get the word out. “Like I had before.”

“Armor?” Lucifer asked.

Maze shook her head, but she looked uncertain again. “Just leather, I think. I think... that’d be enough. To remind me.”

She fell silent then, and pushed away from the wall. As they put on their trousers, Lucifer didn’t press her for more details. He didn’t tell her again that she could go home, that he would see to it that Amenadiel would take her, and he didn’t say he loved her, either. 

Instead, he loaded the colorful clothes she’d purchased into the newly-installed fireplace and doused them in lighter fluid. When he handed her a match, she smiled. 

“Just like old times,” she said, laughing at him over the flickering flames.

“Almost,” said Lucifer. He brought forth his Devil face and popped two cigarettes in his mouth. With no risk to his hair or eyebrows, he leaned close to the fire to light them, then handed one to Maze. She grinned and took a drag. Smoke seeped out from her hollow cheek. 

“Now, what else can we burn?” asked Lucifer brightly a few minutes later. He turned to what was left of the pile on the couch. A black and white striped paper bag caught his eye, but Maze took it out of his hands.

“Actually, I think we should keep this,” she said, extracting a jet black pencil. She uncapped it, and stepped nearer, raising herself to her tiptoes. “Change back?” she said, oddly tentative. “Close your eyes?”

Lucifer was puzzled, but he did so, slipping his Devil face back into oblivion and letting his eyelids drop. The pressure, when it came, wasn’t painful, though it wasn’t entirely comfortable, either. But he stayed still, even when she rubbed at his eyelids with what felt like her pinky finger. 

Then Maze told him to open his eyes again and keep them fixed on the ceiling. The black pencil slid across the bottom of his vision, and he felt a few tears spring up. He suppressed them as best he could, but when Maze was finished with the pencil, she brushed a finger under her work, and Lucifer could see it sparkle with moisture.

“Wow,” she murmured. 

“What?” Lucifer asked, a little apprehensive. “Does it look strange?”

Maze shook her head and took his hand. She led him through the bedroom and straight into the bathroom. He stepped in front of the mirror, and his jaw dropped. The color lining his eyes wasn’t as neat as Maze’s had been. Along the top, it was more of a messy grey smudge, barely noticeable. The bottom was more defined, but still, the blurry line seemed like an extension of his lashes, connecting their roots into something dark and seamless.

“Oh, I like that quite a lot,” he said, turning his head to see it from all angles. Over his shoulder, Mazikeen was grinning with her human appearance. “Your sweet girl taught you how to do this?”

“That’s not all she taught me,” said Maze with a chuckle, and Lucifer felt her hand slide over his backside. He turned around, so her hand skimmed over his front side as well.

“Show me,” he breathed, and she pulled him close, so he could kiss her again.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mrsd_writes), and [Tumblr](http://mrsd-writes.tumblr.com) if you want to discuss any connections to season 5 that I am definitely not mentioning here.


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